Tears On Her Dark Face
by kate04us
Summary: Her marriage is a mess, she can't let go of her last case and an unwelcome discovery turns a bad day into hell. A drink and a handsome stranger might help. Set some time in the past.


**Tears On Her Dark Face**

by Kate04

-o-o-o-o-o-

**A/N:**** The characters are not mine. I don't mean any harm and promise to return them unharmed.**

**A huge 'thank you' once again goes to Robin for another excellent beta job! Even though she's a great beta, I still claim all remaining mistakes as my own. ;)**

-o-o-o-o-o-

"_No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place."_

― _Edna St. Vincent Millay_

-o-o-o-o-o-

He had been drunk again when he'd come home the night before. Sharon hated it when he smelled of whiskey and cigarette smoke and she had asked him to take a shower before joining her in bed.

Never mind that she had already been asleep after a long, exhausting shift before his blundering entrance had startled her awake.

Jack had not been in the mood to accommodate her, though. She couldn't remember exactly what had been said, but they had ended up hurling angry words at each other for more than half an hour before Jack had grabbed a pillow and blanket and retreated to the living room.

Sharon hadn't been able to fall asleep for a long time and when her alarm woke her again she felt as if she hadn't had more than an hour of sleep.

After rushing through her morning routine, Sharon stopped by her children's rooms before she went downstairs. They were both still fast asleep and would be for at least another hour, but she couldn't resist brushing a gentle hand over their cheeks and place a soft kiss in their hair. Letting her hand rest on a shoulder or an arm, she whispered words of love into the quiet room and prayed that she would see them again that night, as she did every morning before she left for work. This would be the only peace she would find that day.

As she looked into the living room she saw that Jack was still asleep on the sofa and she ignored him. His words from last night still stung and, given her lack of sleep, she was sure that they would argue again if she woke him now.

Heading into the kitchen, she made coffee and prepared sandwiches for the children and herself. When she was done, she walked into the living room, coffee cup in hand, to collect her shoes.

She took a moment to study Jack. He looked peaceful and so much younger, his face showing no trace of the drinking and gambling and the long nights away from his family.

Where had the love and respect gone they used to have for one another? Sharon had no clear recollection of the last time he had smiled at her, the last time he had made her laugh. All they had done lately was argue. They argued about money, about his drinking, his gambling, her working hours, about who went grocery shopping, picked up the kids, did the housework. It all made her so unbelievably sad and served only to remind her how different the reality of their life together was from what she had dreamed it would be when they had gotten married.

Sometimes they had good days. Days when he was sober, when they both came home early enough to have dinner together, to be a regular family, when she didn't have trouble letting go of a particularly troubling case.

Sometimes they just sat on the sofa next to each other, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder and she could almost forget the fighting, the insults he hurled at her when he was drunk, the loneliness she felt when his side of the bed remained cold once again and she was left wondering just where he was instead.

Those times made her hope that this was just a rough patch and they would get through it.

And then there were times like last night when he called her names that hurt more than she would ever let him see, when he blamed her for his drinking, for not wanting to be around his family and everything else that went wrong.

Sharon took a deep breath, blinked away the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks and turned her back on her husband. Swallowing the last of her coffee, she walked into the kitchen to rinse the cup, before she put on her shoes and jacket, grabbed her purse and was out of the door, her professionalism settling around her like a protective cloak. As she did every morning, she left any thought of her desolate marriage and other personal problems behind as soon as she stepped off the front porch.

-o-o-o-o-o-

They had finally managed to wrap up their case after more than two weeks and three victims. She would never forget the images of those young girls, not one of them even 16 years old, obviously raped and tortured and then beaten to death. It was cases like this Sharon had a hard time letting go of at night and they made her wonder if she was really made for working in Special Assaults.

She wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in bed with her children right next to her, holding on to the illusion that they would always be safe. However, with all the paperwork that came with closing a case, she'd had to stay much longer than originally planned. Earlier that evening, she had called her brother-in-law and asked him if Emily and Ricky could stay overnight.

They usually went to his place after school and daycare, whenever she and Jack had to work longer. Her two nieces where the same age as her own children and lived in the same neighbourhood and it was a good thing, too, because Sharon had no idea how they would manage without the help of Jack's family.

Without her children waiting for her and knowing that her husband most probably would be "working late", Sharon was reluctant to return home. She should get some sleep, but thoughts of the case had her too keyed up. For a while she thought about joining her colleagues at the pub around the corner, but decided against it in the end. A hot bath and some soothing music would help her unwind much better than the company of her equally distressed colleagues.

-o-o-o-o-o-

This late at night the streets were relatively empty and the only thing slowing her down were the ever-present traffic lights. At one of those stops, almost halfway home, Sharon's wandering eyes landed on a familiar car and only seconds later she spotted the all-too-familiar form of its owner standing right next to it.

Time seemed to stop, every detail of the scene in front of her revealed to her in painful clarity. Long, blonde hair tumbling over bare shoulders, a backside clad in a black dress leaning against the hood of the car, slender arms wrapped around his neck, head tossed back as his lips kissed her neck and the exposed skin of her chest. His hands roamed over her slim body, squeezing a well-rounded ass, pressing himself against her.

Honking somewhere behind her made Sharon tear her eyes away from the scene at the side of the road and she continued her drive home. Her mind was completely devoid of any conscious thought with the exception of what she had seen only moments ago and she drove as if she were in a trance.

After only narrowly missing a parked car when she turned a corner, Sharon found the next vacant spot at the side of the road and pulled over. Her hands held on to the steering wheel to stop them from shaking and she closed her eyes tightly to keep the tears inside. Her heart pounded in a frantic rhythm and she felt as if the world was spinning around her.

Breathing became harder and harder and the car was suddenly too small. Grabbing her purse off the passenger seat, Sharon jumped out of the car, barely stopping long enough to lock the door before she started walking.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He had brown eyes, a soothing, somewhat gravelly voice and he smelled divine. Sharon couldn't remember when exactly the attractive stranger had squeezed himself into the small space between her bar stool and the next one. Maybe two or three drinks ago. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn't place his handsome face.

It hadn't taken him long to start talking to her and for some reason Sharon had found herself responding. They had started with small talk, the usual things complete strangers find themselves talking about. After a while, his fingers had touched her wedding ring, which lay on the bar next to her glass. His question hadn't seemed as intrusive as it should have and to her own surprise, she started to open up to him.

At first the words came hesitantly, but with each passing minute they flowed easier and easier until he knew her entire sad tale. At some point his hand had found its way to her back, drawing comforting circles that spread welcome warmth throughout her body.

His comments to her story were thoughtful and gentle. And then he began to talk about his own marriage, how in his case he was the asshole, who went out to drink too often, who worked long hours and spent too little time with his family. She saw the pain and regret in his eyes and placed a gentle hand on his arm. They talked about hurt feelings, missed opportunities and burnt bridges while they ordered more drinks.

Comforting touches turned into soft caresses, the somewhat respectable distance between them vanished more and more with every passing minute until she could feel his solid body pressed against hers, his warmth seeping through her clothes. Something about this stranger made her insides flutter in a way she had almost forgotten and her increasingly fuzzy thoughts went down roads that shouldn't even exist.

At some point one of his hands had landed on her knee, his fingers gently circling the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His lips touched her ear, hot breath feathering against her skin as he whispered tender words. She shivered at the contact, arousal shooting through her body like lightning.

Her entire being cried out in desperate need, reveling in the loving touch of another human being. Sharon wasn't usually susceptible to instant attraction like this. She needed time and trust, but something about this man had her insides on fire right away and it frightened her. She knew she needed to get away from him, before she did something she would regret.

Pushing him away, she mumbled an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom before she slapped enough money onto the bar to pay for her drinks. She grabbed her ring, dropped it into her purse and stepped away from the bar.

That was the first time she noticed that she might have a more immediate problem than her current temptation. The room tilted alarmingly and she had a hard time staying on her feet. This was the reason why she usually didn't drink more than two glasses of wine. The alcohol had hit her the moment she had gotten up. Until that point she had felt perfectly well, if a little tipsy.

The bar was too loud, there were too many people around her and she couldn't quite remember where she had wanted to go. Suddenly, an arm appeared around her waist, pulling her against a strong, decidedly male body. It was her handsome companion and he helped her walk towards the back of the bar.

As they neared the restrooms, the noise was less overwhelming and they were blessedly alone. Sharon turned towards her rescuer and, looking up, she found herself captivated by his amazing eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips and she wondered what they might taste like, what they might feel like against her own.

He must have seen that thought reflected on her face, because a second later he pushed her into the restrooms and had her pressed against the wall, his mouth devouring hers.

Somewhere at the back of her mind a tiny bell rang a shrill alarm, but as their tongues met and fought a frantic duel, it was ignored.

Her hands clawed at his shirt, desperately trying to reach the skin underneath while his hands had already found their way inside her blouse and were busy with the clasp of her bra.

Soft skin and well-defined muscles under her hands, lips on her neck, insistent hands on her breasts, circling and pinching her nipples. A loud moan filled the relative silence, a hand slid up her thigh, her skirt hiking up as she wrapped a leg around his.

His hard length ground against her hot centre, but there were too many layers between them, not enough contact. She wanted to see him, feel him, taste him. Rational thought had no place on her mind anymore. All she knew was blinding lust, a desperate need to connect with this man.

Her hands made short work of his belt and, opening his trousers, she pushed them and his briefs down. She sank to her knees in front of him and, wrapping an eager hand around his length, she touched his weeping tip with her tongue, circling him before she let her mouth close around him.

She felt his hands in her hair, heard him groan, as she worked him with her lips and teeth and tongue, her hand gliding up and down his silky shaft at the same rhythm as her mouth. He tasted pleasantly salty and distinctly male.

His hips started a gentle counter-movement as his hands took a firmer hold on her hair and it sent shards of desire down her spine. She started to gradually pick up speed, when he pulled her to her feet and pushed her against the wall again.

His mouth was on hers instantly and their tongues tangled once again. His hands pushed her skirt up and moved her panties down her legs. She somehow managed to step out of them without stumbling and groaned when a hand brushed over her soft folds, two fingers sliding into her depth, his thumb circling her clit. One of her legs moved around him in silent invitation. In one fluid move he hoisted her up and entered her tight channel.

Sharon moaned at the pain of stretching tissue, but her hips moved against his, desperate for every bit of sensation. It only took a moment for the pain to give way to pleasure and soon they were thrusting madly, their bare chests slick with sweat. She was vaguely aware of moaning and muttering words she barely recognised as her own. His hands had a death grip on her ass and her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders.

Their movements became more and more frantic, lips and tongues sliding over every bit of exposed skin they could reach. Sharon felt the tension build up inside her until, with a few more thrusts, it exploded. A cry was torn from her throat as light exploded behind her lids. Her walls pulsated around him and she could feel him lengthen inside her as he, too, came with a roar.

For a long moment, they clung to each other, the wall at her back their only solid hold. He planted soft kisses into her hair and against the side of her head. She leaned her head against his chest and waited for the world to slide back into alignment. She drew strength and comfort from his solid presence and just for a few minutes, nothing was wrong with her world.

Then awareness expanded beyond their sated bodies and she knew that she wasn't supposed to be here. The reality of the situation was still not clear to her. All she knew was that she had to go. This was wrong. Panic set in and she pushed him away from her, her hands frantically brushing her skirt back down, fumbling with the closure of her bra, the buttons of her blouse. Without looking at him, she bent to retrieve her panties and, not trusting her balance enough to put them back on, she stuffed them into her purse.

Sharon finally looked up at him, only to avert her eyes right away. She mumbled a short apology, pushed him out of her way and rushed towards of the door.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The cold air and rain hit her like a brick wall as soon as she stepped outside and she was soaked before she had made it down the block. Not sparing her car or the jacket she had left on the passenger seat a single thought, she took off walking in the direction of home.

Tears streamed down her face, instantly washed away by the pouring rain. Her makeup was long gone and her skirt and blouse clung to her body, completely drenched, but she was grateful for the fresh, cool air

With a shaking hand she brushed a few wet strands of hair out of her face as she hurried down the road as if on autopilot. Her head was spinning and she tried to fight the urge to be sick, partly due to the excessive amount of alcohol she'd had and partly due to what she had just done.

Yet, feeling bile rise in her throat, Sharon stumbled a few steps towards a tree by the side of the road and threw up, narrowly missing her own shoes.

When she was done, she remained bent over for a while longer, her hands braced against the tree. Once she thought she had herself under control again, she pushed away from the tree and continued her walk home.

Her memory of the last couple of hours returned in fragments and with every fragment the alcohol induced fog retreated a little more and the anxiety and desolation became harder and harder to bear.

The picture was still incomplete and what she saw seemed more like snippets of a movie she might have watched years ago rather than her own recent reality. She vaguely recalled saying and doing things she would never have done under normal circumstances. It left her feeling violated in a way she couldn't explain.

Sharon had lost control and had put herself in an incredibly vulnerable position. The feeling of helplessness wasn't something she was familiar with and it made her even more upset.

Sharon Raydor had never been helpless and she would not let anyone or anything turn her into that person – not her cheating husband, not a bad case or too much alcohol. She had let her precious control slip for a moment, but that would not happen again. She would not let that happen ever again.

By the time she walked up the steps to her front door, the tears had stopped falling and the almost paralyzing feeling of vulnerability and hurt had given way to a fierce determination.

Not losing any time, Sharon went into the bedroom and dragged a large suitcase from the top of the closet. She pulled Jack's clothes out of the closet and tossed them into the suitcase, not caring about wrinkling his dress shirts and suits. When nothing more would fit, she closed the buckles and carried it to the front door.

Leaving her husband's things on the porch, Sharon closed the door on her marriage with a resounding bang.


End file.
